


The Great Strap Extravaganza

by striderade (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Pegging, a bit of dirty talk, the usual, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/striderade
Summary: Dave Strider's guide to, "How I Found Out I Actually Love Dick More Than I Thought I Did", with co-assistance from Terezi Pyrope.





	The Great Strap Extravaganza

Spread out like this, Dave looks so perfect and vulnerable. You’ve seen him in many positions in your lifetime, with ones of equal merit – times of Dave in peril, in struggle, in loss. You always knew that up there, past that cool façade of his, he had breaking points, and you’d definitely witnessed them. But this was undoubtedly a weakness of Dave’s you’d been waiting to know about. He arches wonderfully for you, almost as if he’d never had an opposition to this in the first place.

He’s relaxed, now, arms stretched out over the couch cushion. Underneath you are his legs, his face leaning against his wrists. He’s watching you from this angle, his eyes lowered and careful, his breathing uneven. He’s nervous, his fingers flexing off and on. You grin at him, all teeth and tongue and delight.

“Hurry up already,” he says, impatient. “Before I change my mind.”

Right, because you’re so sure he’s going to.

“I’m taking my sweet, sweet time, Dave,” you say, leaning over him. “You smell wonderful. Buried underneath your apprehensive deceit is excitement, and you know it. Telling me to hurry up won’t make things go faster, you know.”

“I’m not a piece of eye-candy,” he fusses.

He so is. You run your tongue up the valley between his shoulder blades, relishing in the hiss of surprise that leaves his mouth. He tenses noticeably, up right against you, his hips lifting right up off the couch.

It’s ridiculously easy to open him up like this. You know everything that makes him tick – from what he likes to what he doesn’t. Pressure points that make him squirm. Things that make him fall apart in no time at all. But you’re at an impasse; this is new territory, so what about this would Dave like? You can feel him resisting the urge to like what’s happening, his body stiff. But you prompt him to chill out, your hands running down the curve of his waist, his hips far too wide to fit in your tiny hands. You try anyway.

“ _Relax_ ,” you say. The word feels strange, leaving your mouth.

“Fuckin’—” Dave swears. “How do you expect me to relax when you—”

You shut him up by biting the back of his neck, his back curving as he melts into the couch. _Bingo_. Slowly, you slide your hands down over his stomach, his skin hot to the touch – too hot. He’s all fired up, his head leaning forward into his arms to give you more access. Happily, you oblige, littering his freckled neck in kisses and bites. He lets out the softest noise, so quiet you almost miss it, and you reach down to drag your palm over his cock through his jeans just to get a feel.

“I thought you didn’t like this,” you say, grinning against his shoulder. You burn with pride.

“Shut up,” he says, but the threat has no heat.

You idly wonder if this what that lucky individual wanted. Did they think Dave was going to buy some random sex-toy off a shady website and call it a day? Knowing him, he probably would’ve gone with the easiest option; cheap vibrator with only two settings and not much else. The concept is so boring it almost makes you laugh, knowing just how infinitely better this is. At the end of the day, he can go on his godforsaken blog and preach about how his fiancé fucked him, and you’ll read it with pleasure.

You suppose you don’t blame him for being so wrung up about it. After all, this isn’t exactly normal. But, to be fair, you’d be yearning for something… more. Something exciting. Something new. And in a way, you suppose you got what you wanted.

When you pull back, Dave’s neck is starting to blemish. You take a moment to appreciate what you’ve done, your hands rounding back as you drag your thumb down his spine. Each bump in his vertebrae sing as he responds to your touch, his shoulders flexing as he turns his head again. He’s gorgeous – every single bit of him, from the freckles that adorn his skin to the scars from years in the game. Dave has grown into something very, very fine. He’s not the same teenager you fell in love with when you were thirteen, but something more. His body shows signs of wear and abuse, but he is youthful, primed to take worse.

You feel him spread his legs out underneath you, or at least as far as they can go.

“Terezi,” he warns. His voice is tense.

“Yeah,” you say. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pull. “I got it, Mr. Drama Queen.”

This part takes a little bit of maneuvering, on your end. You lift yourself up to get them off the rest of the way, Dave’s hands reaching down so that he can help you out. Impatiently, he wiggles out of the denim, the fabric catching around his knees. But it’s good enough. The scent that hits your nose is delicate, your expression smug as you wait until he settles back down. _Perfect._

Reaching over, you grab his lubricant, trying your damn hardest to ignore the strap-on sitting right next to it. You fail, terribly. You remember when the two of you spent hours looking at stuff online, graciously finding the perfect tool for the night.

“The shit I do for this blog,” Dave says. “This is obscene. This is like – fuck, I don’t even run a porn site anymore, what the fuck am I doing?”

“Letting me fuck you,” you say, extremely pleased. “Don’t play dumb! Even though you always do.”

“Okay, look, I _know_ ,” he stammers. “You think I don’t? Right, because I’m able to completely ignore the fuckin’ _dildo_ on the table, or the fact that we spent three hours on your phone just lookin’ at this shit—”

“Wouldn’t you rather it be me, than anybody else?” You settle behind him again, right between his legs. Dave shifts one over, dangling it off the couch, your own folded under you as you get into the right position. You almost forget to remove your panties, and you do so quickly – hastily discarding of them as you toss them off the couch.

The cool air hits you and you hiss. But Dave is long and flexible, making getting comfortable easy – his arms moving back to their original position as they slide off the armrest.

“You know I’ll take care of you, Dave. You may be nervous now, but you won’t be soon. Isn’t that right?” Your eyebrows raise suggestively, and for a split second you wish he could see you.

“Yeah,” he says. You kiss the underside of his thigh. “Fuck, you’re gonna goddamn kill me one of these days.” 

“It’ll be a celebration when I do,” you laugh, and uncap the bottle. “I’ll throw a party and invite everyone.”

What’s scary about this, you think, is that no matter how you wish to tease Dave for his lack of experience, you don’t exactly fair much better. You’ve been at this long enough to know the basics, but this is uncharted – unknown. You can tell that the twitch in Dave’s posture is excitement as you touch and relax him, but what about afterwards? Dully, you warm the lube up between your fingers as you try not to think about the ache between your legs, your heart beating unusually fast. You cut your nails for this! He should be thanking you.

The good part, however, is that Dave is very, _very_ turned on. You thought he wouldn’t be, at first. You expected him to resist this – to require extra care and attention, but he never did. You wonder if he was really as reluctant as he said he was, or if he was trying not to admit something to himself. You consider the latter; it’s one of his bad habits, not wanting to embarrass himself, but he always ends up doing it anyway.

You tease him, leaning against the back of his thigh. He says nothing – only tenses as you bring your fingers against him, preparing him for what’s about to happen. You haven’t been able to stop smiling since you started, undeniably attracted to his timidness. Usually, he exudes confidence – practically dripping in it, unable to shake how calm he can stay in most situations. But now, Dave bows like he can barely control himself, his breathing labored and quick.

“Don’t snap my fingers off,” you say, your voice absolutely laced with shit-eating smugness.

He opens his mouth to fight you off, but he doesn’t get the chance to. Slowly, you work your finger into him, his protest dying immediately as he instinctively tries to get away from it. But you know better, holding him still, your other hand pushing up against his stomach, your face lighting up in amusement as he exhales roughly. He gasps a soft “ _mmnf_ ” into the couch in obvious discomfort, his eyes burning into yours as he turns to watch you.

“Such a baby! It’s not so bad after all,” and you’re being honest. It is definitely not bad by any means. Dave isn’t into this yet; you’ve only just gotten started, and he’s still warming up to the sensation. So you try again, pushing in once more, your chin resting against the top of his tailbone.

Dave relaxes, finally getting that – yeah, it really isn’t as bad as he expected to be. 

You take your time, working him open like this. Eventually, you think he’s ready for a second, your fingers still wet from before. It’s a bit of a tighter fit this time, surely not as easy as before – but what encourages you is the way Dave slumps forward, a barely contained groan teetering dangerously close on the edge of his voice.

“You’re such a wimp,” you say, eagerly starting up a rhythm. With the both of them, you easily thrust into him, working past the tightness as he gasps and pushes back. It’s delightful; you excitedly witness as Dave becomes lenient, his cock hard and ready between his legs. You wish you could touch him, but you’re a little occupied – and besides. You don’t want to reward him just yet. “Next time you ever want to pussy out about doing kinky sex stuff, just remember this and we’ll be golden!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up,” Dave whines. “I don’t need you lecturing me while you finger me!”

“Am I lecturing you, or telling you how it is?” In all honesty, you could do this forever. Momentarily, you forget about the original plan altogether. It sits in the back of your mind, of course, but you take a moment just to enjoy what’s happening currently. You find a good angle, your hand turning palm-up as you slide your fingers all the way in, and Dave moans into his arm. You can tell he’s still holding back, but his resolve is fading – and fast.

“I’ve always wondered what kind of thrill you get as you do this to me,” you say. You hold the angle, repeating yourself, the start of a burn building in your wrist. But you hardly care; your only priority is Dave, his hips rocking backwards as he silently asks you for more, the rest of his body pressing into the couch. He no longer tries to hold himself up, his arms bending upwards as his face leans between them. He looks uncomfortable, but the physical language he’s speaking says otherwise. “Hmm… is it the noises I make? The way I like to fuck myself on your fingers? You'd be shocked just how many questions I have for you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans. “You win, alright, you—”

Oh, it’s good. It’s very good. You hold the Olympic torch in your hand, now, the flames burning bright. Dave is the finishing line and you are the athlete, just waiting to cross it. Michael Phelps would be shaken. But your gold medal isn’t the type you hang up on your wall, no. You’re getting impatient, the previous ache you experienced turning into a reminder. You kiss the surface of Dave’s skin before removing your fingers, dragging them back over him as you spread out the lubricant.

He’s surprisingly disappointed by the loss of contact, but it doesn’t stop him from enjoying the teasing touches. As you rub over him, your own face quite flushed now, he pushes back again – arching deliciously towards you. “ _Mmm_ …”

“Is it good?” You ask, fighting the urge to do more. You can’t help it – you slip two fingers into him again, nice and deep, and smile as he groans, his thighs twitching while you work him with them easily. “You want more?”

“Uh huh,” Dave chokes. “ _Yeah._ ”

It’s all you need to hear. You lift yourself off of him, your hand steeling itself on the side of his hip. He isn’t overwhelmed just yet, but he pushes forward against the couch – shifting back as his left arm falls off the cushion. He no longer leans against the armrest, instead lying completely vertically, and you take in the sight of his relaxed posture.

You reach over and grab the harness. For some reason, touching it now feels incredibly dirty, but you don’t shy away from challenge. You never have – but you can tell that Dave’s watching you by the tension that ebbs into his spine. It makes you hot, then, just knowing how weirdly ready for this he is; moments ago, he’d been so reluctant you almost didn’t think you’d be able to get a single finger into him. But now, he kind of just… accepts it.

“Care you remind me why we don’t do this more often?” you ask, spreading his legs as you prompt him to lift his hips up. He obliges, your palm sliding over the curve of his ass as he does so. “Because you’re too scared? Look at how much you’re enjoying it! Don’t try to act like you’re not.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and we’ll never do it again,” he says. His tone is a drawl, permeated by his accent. He always gets like that when he’s turned on – a sign, to you, that he’s not being truthful at all. “This is like, _fuck_ – this is like some 57th page on _Pornhub_ type shit—”

“I know you did your research, though.” Your hands leave him, but only for a moment. You try not to think about the burn of embarrassment in your cheeks as you wrap the harness around your hips, the metal clasps snapping together as you wind the buckle through each loop. It’s tight on your skin – expensive leather and latex as it fits snugly around you, and the final snap! of it sliding into place makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “How many pages did you get to? The 60th page? Maybe the 100th?”

As you reach down to pull through the last clamp, Dave groans. It’s more so in annoyance, now, but he can hear you attaching the harness. His responses are exciting to watch; unconsciously, he presses against you, just barely preventing you from doing it properly. The leather sits comfortably against you, providing momentary relief; you’re so wet you can hardly stand it.

“I want to fuck you so badly,” you purr, firmly pressing the fake cock against the tail of his spine. You make sure he feels it, and oh, does he ever – a quiet noise leaving his mouth. “You make it very hard for me to resist you, Dave.”

“Same hat,” Dave manages shakily. “Same fucking hat.”

“We all know the rating system is broken as all shit.” You fish for the lubricant again. Sometime between the fingering and the teasing, it fell between the two of you, and it’s embarrassing just how hard your hands are trembling as you pour a generous amount onto your palm. “You once rated five hats to a dog in human lingerie made of spandex.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Dave says. “That dog was amazing. Also, it’s called a fucking bathing suit, what the—”

But no dog is as amazing as Dave, you think stupidly. You slick him up again, wanting this to be easy – your fingers a deep slide into him as he gasps and keens again, thoroughly enjoying it. You take a second. Maybe two. Maybe even three. But then you’re slicking yourself – God, is it really even you? – making sure to cover every single inch. The motion presses the leather up against your folds, your mouth falling open as you let out a soft moan.

“Terezi,” Dave gasps. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I—”

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Or, well, one of them. You don’t want this to hurt – hell, you don’t even want to rush. But you do, anyway, doubling over Dave as you line yourself up, your face impossibly flushed as you wait. Once you’re sure you’re not going anywhere, you drag your hands back up to his hips, holding him firmly. After an extremely tense moment, you sink into him.

Before, he’d been huffing and gasping quietly, containing his noises instead of his breathing. Now, as you slowly press more and more into him, the resistance breaks and he _whines_ , his hips stuttering up against you. It is very obscene and very perfect, and you’re hit with a wave of love for him – an interrupting love and adoration as you kiss the back of his neck, your hands drumming up and down the length of his sides.

“How does it feel?” You ask. You can hardly recognize your own voice.

Neither can Dave, apparently. “It—” he pants, swallowing as he fights to find the right words to say. “I feel like you’re about to split me the fuck open, like—”

You give a shallow, experimental thrust forward, and the noise he makes is just so needy and adorable.

“Yeah,” he slurs. “Tha’s good…”

Where was the Dave from time, in blatant refusal of wanting to do this? You always knew he had a way with letting go once things got going, but holy shit. He’s practically asking for it, now, and you hardly have time to worry about things such as rhythm or doing it properly as you give him what he wants. You dig your nails into his skin, marking him, _feeling_ him, your teeth nibbling at the bottom of his ear as you listen to him moan.

It’s a steady motion of in, out, in – but for some reason, it feels so fucking intimate. You know Dave is used to this; he goes through this every time the two of you have sex, but he’s arguably much better at it. He doesn’t seem to mind now, though, despite your lack of knowing what the fuck to do; he proves this by eagerly rocking his hips back up against you, his arm falling as he steadies himself against the couch. His mouth is open, and you can feel how slack his jaw is – his head falling forward.

The heat is getting to you, too. You lack restraint – unbelievably turned on. He always has this effect on you, but this time it’s different – this time, Dave isn’t here to fuck you through it. Instead, it’s _you_ doing it to _him_ , and it’s – well, it’s a little silly just how hot it is, but you don’t care. You just… know how many people would be dying to be in your position. Dave is quite popular – his abundance of thirst letters are a growing junk list in his e-mail.

Without thinking, you reach underneath him to wrap your fingers around his cock. The noise he makes is lovely, and you bite his ear as he fights between rocking into your hand or onto the strap-on. His struggles excite you. He can barely make up his mind, now, but luckily his body does it for him – his hips settling into an unsteady rhythm as he tries to thrust into your fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “God, yes—”

You push in deep, and he loses his purchase on the couch. By now, you’re so turned on you can barely think straight. You try to piece together a mental image of what this would feel like if you were really fucking him, almost putting yourself in Dave’s shoes. You know you’ll never be able to completely imagine it. But you can try, and for a second, you lose yourself in the feeling – your eyes slipping shut as you fuck him open steadily.

Dave’s muscles tense. You pull back to watch his shoulders flex – the curve of his spine dipping again. The noises the two of you are making are highly inappropriate – broken gasps and the noises of your sex filling the room. But it’s like this every time. You’re no stranger to these sounds; only now you’re slightly more coherent to register them. But Dave can’t; he is gone, losing himself, his filter deterred. You squeeze him firmly around the base, feel him stiffen up against you, and then he’s coming – his groan low and rough in his throat as he reaches back to find your hip and squeeze it hard.

Okay, fuck – you can work with that.

You don’t have the strength to continue fucking him. Your hands shake as you struggle to undo the harness and pull out. You can sense Dave’s confusion, but you are on a mission – Michael Phelps egging you on as you toss it to the floor and fall back. The two of you move around as Dave stumbles through his half-aware stupor, his body falling forward against yours as you push his head down between your legs.

He looks so… cute. His hair is a mess – his face flushed and absolutely fucked out. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this, and you relish in the commitment to memory as he pushes your legs apart, bending your legs back. Now this – _this_ is familiar, and you’re so unbelievably close that you can’t help the noise that leaves your mouth as he knows exactly where to go, his tongue passing deliciously over where you ache as he gets to work.

He’s sloppy, no doubt oversensitive, his nerves still lit like a fucking Christmas tree. But he still tries, and you’re too far gone to really care about his performance anyway, the heel of your foot pushing in-between his shoulder blades. His eyebrows, dark and thick and wonderful, crease with concentration – and firmly does he wind his arms over your pelvis, hands holding his wrists against your stomach.

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” you gasp, carding your fingers through his hair. Only a single pass from your entrance to your clit makes you come, and you push against his face as he moans against your hood and struggles to lick you through your orgasm. It feels amazing, knocking the breath out of you, and you relax against the arm of the couch as your leg falls open, Dave’s face coming up to greet you.

He grins sloppily, his face wet. You’re so delirious you don’t think twice about kissing him, his body pressing up between your thighs.

You do this for awhile, kissing lazily as you come down from your high. At some point, Dave becomes too tired to kiss – and he shifts forward to lean his head against your chest. His breathing returns to something slow and steady, but not even you can contain the heave of your own. His arm hangs off the couch, the two of you completely boneless now. He’s warm and nice and satisfied, and you gently stroke his hair as he comes back from the high.

“So, what’s the final verdict?” You ask, after a few minutes. You’re so tired, your voice reflecting it.

"Mm," Dave says. He shrugs against you, mustering up just enough courage to smart-mouth you back. “If I tell you now, you’ll just pull the ‘I told you so’ bullshit, and I am so not in the mood for that.”

You smile sleepily. “So it’s definitely a ‘I told you so’ moment, then?”

He pinches you. “Shut up,” he says. “It was good. You were good. But you always are – is that so much of a surprise to you?”

You pull his face up and kiss him sweetly. It’s not an eventful kiss – Dave gives up halfway as he shifts his legs up, very clearly wanting to go to sleep. But Dirk will be home soon, and you’d rather be caught dead than have him find the two of you passed out here, basking in an after-sex glow and very obviously not surrounded by sex paraphernalia.

“So…” You can’t help but press it. “We’re definitely going to do this again, right?”

You laugh as he attempts to kick you. You can’t wait to read that blog post in a few hours. You spend the next twenty minutes stringing out random article names as the two of you get dressed, coming up with stupid names like _How I Found Out I Actually Love Dick More Than I Thought I Did_ and _Have You Tried the Latest Rage? A Strap-On?_

When he eventually does post it, it’s his most popular entry yet.

**Author's Note:**

> this was before i saw the "tentabulge" light so please hold your roasts until the end. this was supposed to have an intro but instead it turned into a raunchy ass one-shot (typical of me, as always)
> 
> also, the daverezi tag deserved this


End file.
